“Very well, and very glad to see you,” she replied cordially. “Aunt Yvonett, I am sorry to be late, do excuse me.” “Thee is only a few minutes behind time, and Thomas has kept me very agreeably entertained,” answered the Quakeress. She had always retained her “plain speech,” and in her dress, the soft grays and browns of the Friends. Silvery curls framed a face of the eighteenth-century type, and, with arms, still rounded and white, showing below her elbow sleeves, with the folds of a white fichu across her breast, she made a novel and lovely picture as she sat at the head of the table. “Will thee have some tea?” she asked. “If you please.” Marjorie slipped into a seat opposite her aunt. “What brings you over from Fort Myer, Tom?” “Had to go to the War Department. Try some of these beaten biscuit, Madge, Minerva has excelled herself,” smiling gaily at the colored woman. “I thought Cousin Yvonett would take pity on me and give me a bite.” “I am always pleased to see thee, Thomas,” answered Madame Yvonett. “But if thee only wants a bite, thee should join the ‘Hunger Club.’” “The ‘Hunger Club’?” echoed Tom. “It doesn’t sound encouraging; is it anything like the ‘starvation parties’ in Richmond before that city surrendered to Grant?” “Only alike in that they both leave much to be desired,” smiled Madame Yvonett. “The club was organized two weeks ago by eleven wealthy women; the twelfth place being left for an invited guest. A prize will be awarded at the end of the season to the hostess who has given the most appetizing luncheon for the least money.” “How are they going to know how much each luncheon costs?” “The hostess is required to write the price of every course on the back of the place cards. The object of the club is to encourage simplified living in fashionable circles,” she went on to explain. “I was the invited guest at the luncheon yesterday.” “Did you get anything to eat?” inquired Tom. “She ate something before she went,” supplemented Marjorie mischievously. “Only some biscuits and a glass of sherry,” protested Madame Yvonett. “Thee sees, Thomas, I do not like to have my digestion upset, and I took precautions; a cold water luncheon never agrees with me.” “Didn’t they give you anything solid to eat?” “Yes; the luncheon, such as there was of it, was very nice. But the discussion of the food and its price quite destroyed my appetite.” “You prefer a soupçon of gossip to season a delicacy,” teased Tom. “I bet you christened it the ‘Hunger Club.’” “Your invitation read ‘to meet the Economy Luncheon Club,’” Marjorie reminded her aunt. Madame Yvonett smiled as she helped herself to some butter. “Did thee not return earlier than usual from the Lawrences’, Marjorie?” she asked.